Death Row
by IronAngel240
Summary: How far will you go to protect the one you love if you know the one you love is destined to kill you? Sequel to Murder One.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, Everyone,**

**Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a fantastic festive season. I'm excited to be back in fandom and my fingers are itching to write this new installment in the Guardian series. This story is based of Season 3 episode 8, Snuff. I did take some creative licence and changed a few things here and there. **

**As usual I own nothing created by the respective owners of the CSI franchise, I only own my original story and characters.**

**Let me know if you enjoy the story.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSI**

Blue light flickered off the handsome profile of Gil Grissom as he tilted his head to one side. The subtle clicking of the old school film projector was the only sound to be heard other than that of the moaning couple that writhed in passion on the screen before him. Grissom watched the actors with a practised eye, wondering why he had been brought in to watch this third rate snuff film. Although Grissom had detached himself from any feelings of awkwardness at watching this adult film, beside him Griffin Bauer, his eighteen year old colleague, shifted her weight uncomfortably as the man and woman both began to climax. As the camera zoomed out and the man got up from the bed and walked out of the shot, Griffin gave a small sigh of relief that the awkwardness was over and maybe they could finally get to the crime that was supposedly committed.

"Okay," said the African American woman who had called the LVPD, "This is where it got weird."

Grissom and Griffin watched as the man returned and grabbed the woman by the arm, yanking her off the bed. The man pulled the woman close and whipped out a knife which he held to her throat. The woman gave a terrified gasp and tried to fight the man off.

"_No, no,"_ the woman begged in a voice choked with fear. The man then pressed the knife harder to her throat and then slowly slit her jugular. Blood spurted from her carotid as she desperately clutched her neck, trying in vain to staunch the bleeding as she fell back on the bed. Grissom expected to see some sort of reaction from the young woman beside him, but Griffin just continued to watch the scene unfold before her. In fact, it seemed to Grissom that Griffin appeared more uncomfortable with the sex scene than with the murder scene.

"I have processed hundreds of bogus snuff films," said the Processor, "But this? This one just felt different."

"Yeah it should," said Griffin with a sigh, "Arterial spray was real."

Grissom looked at the screen where the blood dripped from the camera lens and said, "It's not fake blood, its human. That was a murder...on 16mm."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Grissom adjusted his latex gloves. As he gently began to remove the roll of film he asked the Processor, "Has this pornographer sent you film to be developed in the past?"

"I'm sure he has," said the Processor, "We get raw film from hundreds of adult film companies. No names just those private boxes."

She referred to some boxes behind Grissom.

"You can film porn," she continued, "Develop it, sell it, buy it, but you can't send it through the US Mail."

"I've got several envelopes here from various private shipping companies," said Griffin as she rummaged through some paperwork.

Grissom gestured his head towards Griffin as he said to the Processor, "We'll be taking those with us as well."

"Whatever," said the Processor with lack of interest. As she walked away Grissom's cell phone rang. He put down his bag of evidence before he answered it.

"Grissom," he greeted.

"_It's Brass,"_ came the gruff reply, _"I got a DB out on Henderson Road."_

"I'm already on a case..." began Grissom.

"_Well, reconsider,"_ Brass cut him off, _"These ants came flying out the body. They're taking chunks out of the coroner. The CSI guy says he won't go near the body again."_

"They're fire ants, Brass," said Grissom seriously, "Keep everyone away from the colony. They're evidence."

"_Reconsider,"_ begged Brass, _"Bring bug spray!"_

"No bug spray!" said Grissom in a horrified voice, "I'll be there ASAP."

Grissom closed his phone and pursed his lips thoughtfully. He walked over to Griffin who was still collecting evidence.

"I've got to go. Brass has got a body swarming with fire ants out on Henderson Road."

Griffin gave a low whistle and said, "Busy night."

"Sara and Warrick are just finishing up a case. I'll give them a call so you'll have some back up," said Grissom.

"That's okay, I can handle things here. This isn't my first rodeo, Grissom," Griffin said.

"I know...but I want Sara and Warrick to work with you," said Grissom.

Griffin just shook her head.

"The work load isn't going to lighten any time soon tonight, so stock up on your caffeine," said Grissom rubbing the back of his neck.

Griffin knelt by her field kit and pulled out an evidence bag and slipped some papers into the bag.

Griffin just shook her head and said, "Fine. You better get going."

"Yeah," said Grissom. As he walked off he flicked his phone open and dialled Sara's number.

"_Sidle."_

"It's me," said Grissom, his heart beating just a little bit faster at the sound of her voice.

"_What's up?"_

"How far are you and Warrick with your case?" Grissom asked as he opened the door to his Denali.

"_We just closed it. Why?"_

"We've got a murder on a snuff film and I just got called out to Henderson. Griffin's here collecting evidence, but I don't really want her working this thing alone." Grissom hopped into his car and shut the door.

"_She doesn't need a babysitter, Grissom. She's quite capable of working the scene on her own,"_ said Sara, slightly defensive of the younger CSI.

"I know, but I'd feel better if I knew you were with her. We don't need another Holly Gribbs, Sara," said Grissom quietly. Of course Grissom knew better than to pull that card with Sara, but he felt uneasy leaving Griffin by herself when she was so new to his charge. Holly Gribbs' face was still burned into his brain; he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

There was silence on the other side of the phone then a sigh.

"_Okay. Warrick and I'll meet her back at the lab."_

"Thank you," said Grissom and snapped his phone shut. He inserted his keys into the ignition and started the car. He then drove off into the night.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Nick Stokes leaned against the black Denali and gave a weary sigh.

"What time was her flight supposed to land?"

Nick looked over at his partner, Catherine Willows, who sat in the driver's seat. The strawberry blonde's one leg dangled out the open door and she rested her head against the back of the seat, her sunglasses shielding her eyes from the winter sun.

"Fifteen minutes ago," Nick replied in a raised voice as an airplane flew over their heads coming in for a landing.

"Maybe you should go inside and look for her," suggested Catherine. "McCarran is a big place. She could've gotten lost or something."

Nick just shook his head, "She'll be here. Trust me; she will miss no opportunity to annoy me."

"And her being in Vegas annoys you?" Catherine asked.

Nick shrugged.

"You never told me what happened between the two of you," said Catherine curiously.

Before Nick could answer the pair heard a new voice call, "Nicky!"

Catherine and Nick looked up to see a young woman walking towards them. The woman seemed to be a little older than Nick, about in her early to mid thirties. She had dark blonde hair, molasses eyes, and a bright smile. Her clothes were simple; light jeans, a blue woollen jersey, and brown cowboy boots. The only jewellery she wore was a pair of dog tags around her neck and a badge clipped to her belt.

"Lara," greeted Nick with a strained smile.

"Nicky," said the woman with a bright smile as she dropped her duffle bag and threw her arms around Nick's neck and hugged him. Nick pulled away, his smile still strained as he turned to Catherine and introduced, "Catherine, this is my older sister, Lara. Lara, this is Catherine Willows. We work together at the LVPD Crime Lab."  
>"A pleasure," said Lara with a smile as she shook Catherine's hand.<p>

"Likewise," said Catherine, looking at Nick from the corner of her eye. He still looked uneasy.

"Welcome to Las Vegas," continued Catherine.

"Thank you," replied Lara.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?" Catherine asked.

"A bit of both," said Lara, "I actually came to ask my brother for some help."

"With a case?" Catherine asked.

Lara nodded.

"Lara is a Texas Ranger," said Nick, his voice still uncomfortable.

"Yeah," said Lara, "A colleague of mine worked a case about five years ago, where a man was arrested for killing his wife. He pleaded Not Guilty, but he was still convicted and sentenced 25 to life. A few weeks ago, his lawyer filed an appeal."

"Was he guilty?" Catherine asked.

"As far as my colleague is concerned, the husband's guilty as hell," replied Lara.

"The thing is," said Nick, "The Ranger who worked the case, is also our godfather. Nicholas Graw."

"You were named after him?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah," sighed Nick.

"If Nicholas says the guy is guilty, he's guilty," said Lara defensively, "I've never known a man more upstanding than him."

"Okay," said Catherine, "So why did you fly all the way out to Vegas?"

Lara smiled, "Because of Nicky here. He doesn't write, he doesn't call," Lara hooked her arm through her brother's, "So I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. He can help me with the case and I get to spend some time with him."

"That's...sweet," said Catherine, still eyeing Nick, who didn't seem happy about this arrangement.

Lara grinned, "I've already had special permission granted so you guys can help on this case. It helps that you work for one of the top Crime Labs in the country."

"We could really use your help, Cath," said Nick in a pleading voice. Catherine looked up at her partner who was gazing at her with begging eyes.

"Uhh, sure," said Catherine still confused by Nick's reluctance to help his family.

Lara grinned, "Awesome. Let's get to work!"


	2. Chapter 2

**New Chapter :D. **

**Leona asked when I'd reveal the connection between Griffin and Sara, and to be honest, I'm not exactly sure. This story has a life of its own and I'm kinda just going with it. This story is too important for me to rush it. But it won't be much longer before the big reveal.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSI**

"Anita Meyers was found dead in her apartment on Thursday morning, 18 July, 1998. She had been beaten to death," said Lara. She stood with her arms crossed at the head of the layout table. Nick and Catherine stood on either side of the table next to her. The table was strewn with boxes of evidence, files, reports, and crime scene photos.

"It was established that she returned home from work at about six o'clock Tuesday evening," said Lara.

"How was this known?" Nick asked.

Lara turned to her brother, "Neighbour had a conversation with her."

"Who was the chief suspect?" Catherine asked as she looked over Nicholas Graw's report.

"The husband, Eric Meyers, didn't have an alibi for the period between six and eight o'clock," explained Lara, "So, naturally, suspicion fell on him first."

Catherine smirked and Nick rolled his eyes.

"What?" Lara frowned.

"See that's the difference between detectives and CSIs," said Nick in a slightly condescending voice, "Suspicion is of little use on its own. Unfounded or emotionally based suspicion is worse than useless and causes great harm; it's what guides the lynch mob."

"But it can be productive," argued Lara, "A detective's gut is his best tool."

"Yes, but for suspicion to be productive," said Catherine trying to calm the siblings down, "It must be based on, and followed up with, sound reasoning. This mixture of suspicion and reason is a forensic scientist's forte. It's kinda essential. Without it, forensic science is reduced to the routine application of scientific recipes."

"Well, this suspicion _was_ backed up with sound reasoning," said Lara as she continued to glare at her brother."

"What, other than the fact he had no alibi, was this sound reasoning?" spat Nick.

"Nick," said Catherine in a warning tone. Before Nick could say anything more; his cell phone rang.

"Saved by the bell," muttered Lara.

Nick glared at his sister once more before he walked out the layout room and answered the call.

"I take it you two aren't two close," said Catherine wryly.

Lara smirked, "What gave it away?"

Nick walked back into the room and said, "I've gotta go. Grissom needs me on a case."

"But you said you'd help me!" said Lara.

"What do you want me to do, Lara?" Nick asked. "Ditch my boss?"

Lara was seething so Catherine quickly said, "Nick, you go. I'll help here."

Nick looked back at the blonde, "Cath, I can't leave you to do this by yourself."

Catherine held up her hand, halting his protests.

"It's fine," she said, "Go. Lara and I can handle this."

Nick threw her a grateful look before he walked out.

"Brilliant," muttered Lara as she braced herself against the layout table.

"I'm just as good as Nick," said Catherine.

"Oh, I know," sighed Lara, "I'd just hoped he would want to help his family for once."

Catherine frowned, "_Not_ helping his family doesn't sound like Nick."

"Then maybe you don't know him as well as you think," said Lara.

_Or maybe _you_ don't,_ thought Catherine as she eyed Lara with a new sense of distrust.

**CSICSICSICSI**

"I followed up on the private mail depot for our snuff movie," said Detective Sulik to Griffin as they walked down the halls of CSI. "The place has got over a thousand boxes. No records of renters, and they deal in cash only."

Griffin smirked dryly, "Dead trail?"

"Yeah."

Griffin pulled out an A4 photo from the file in her hand and gave it to Sulik saying, "I got Archie to digitise that film, and blow up a head shot of our victim."

Sulik looked at the picture of the attractive brunette and said, "If I find any missing persons that match her description, I'll beep you."

"Thanks, Sulik," said Griffin as the detective walked away. She then entered a lab where Sara was processing the film.

"Find any fingerprints?" she asked Sara who was holding a piece of film up to the light.

"I should be able to," said Sara, still looking at the film, "Imaging components on a film strip is held together by gelatine – same stuff that makes Jell-o jiggle," Sara looked over at Griffin, "But they're smudged... I can tell you," Sara continued, "that the film was manufactured in 2002 by a big company. Homicide is contacting them now, trying to get a buyer's list."

Griffin shook her head and sighed as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves, "It won't help. Pornos buy short ends from legitimate clearing houses. Saves money and they're impossible to trace."

"Really?" asked Sara in amazement, wondering how on earth this eighteen year old girl knew so much about the ins and outs of porn companies. Griffin didn't seem like the type in Sara's mind.

Griffin nodded, "I pulled a porno ring using teenage girls a few months before I moved to Vegas. Learned all you'd want to know about the adult entertainment industry, and some stuff you really don't want to know."

_Okaaay,_ thought Sara as she handed Griffin the strip of film and the magnifying glass, _wasn't exactly how I expected her to know that._

Sara had to keep reminding herself that despite Griffin's young age; she had just as much experience as Sara, herself. Although, it was still strange to Sara to think of an eighteen year old as an equal.

"Hell of a way to go," remarked Griffin as she peered through the magnifying glass at the film.

_Is there ever a good way to go?_ Sara thought.

"I always thought snuff films were an urban myth," she said, "I mean, outside of urban Bangkok...?"

Griffin put the film down and gave Sara her full attention, her brown eyes sparkling with dry humour, "FBI's official position on snuff films in the US of A? No such thing."

"What's their unofficial position?" Sara asked.

Griffin tilted her head to one side and said in a conspirator's tone, "Single film goes for a hundred grand. Original negative."

"And this snuff film-maker sends his film out to get processed," said Sara with a smirk and an incredulous shake of her head.

"Greedy doesn't mean smart," said Griffin matter-of-factly as she once again peered at the strip of film.

"I guess not," said Sara.

Griffin handed the film back to her and watched silently as Sara put the film back into its evidence bag. Griffin studied Sara's face for a few moments, and frowned. In fact the more she looked, the deeper her frown became. Sara looked up and saw Griffin staring at her with a deep frown pulling her dark eyebrows together.

"What?" Sara asked, slightly defensive.

"How did you get that bruise on your cheekbone?" Griffin asked in a hard voice.

Sara self consciously touched her cheek and thought, _Damn! I thought the make-up covered it up._

"Aahh, it's nothing," said Sara quickly turning her back on those fathomless, questioning brown eyes, "I was training, weapon less self-defence, I...I took a...ah...a hit."

Sara took a chance and peeked over her shoulder at Griffin, who stood with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Did you know I'm trained in criminal profiling?" Griffin stated unexpectedly.

"You've...mentioned it before," said Sara hesitantly as she turned around.

Griffin gave a dry smile, "So I know exactly when someone's lying to me."

Sara swallowed and nodded her head. Griffin continued to eye her with slightly narrowed eyes before she said, "It's good you're learning to defend yourself."

With that Griffin walked out and called over her shoulder, "Every woman should."

Sara breathed a sigh of relief as the younger woman walked out of sight. Her secret was safe; at least for now...

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, Guys,**

**So here's a new chapter. This is one of my favourites so far. A quick heads up, don't expect too much from the B case. It's actually just a bridge for a later scene and to introduce Nick's sister, Lara.**

**Please leave me a review, there's nothing that inspires me more than seeing that gold envelope telling me someone's reviewed. Anyway, enjoy****.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSI**

"So how did Ranger Graw confirm TOD?" Catherine asked Lara. They had been looking over reports and notes for the better part of three hours now, and Catherine were shocked at how this case lacked concrete forensics. However, Catherine realised that Lara had a bit of a temper and she didn't want to make blasé accusations without any evidence.

"Well, it was confirmed that Anita's habit when she returned home from work was to remove her department store badge and change into casual clothes," explained Lara. "The Rangers alleged that the murder took place sometime during those two hours on Tuesday, since, when her body was discovered, the woman had still been wearing her formal clothes and her work badge."

_There's that word again,_ thought Catherine as she picked up an eyewitness report, _Alleged._

Catherine began reading the report. The eyewitness was one of Anita Meyers neighbours, Maria Gonzales. Catherine was in the middle of the first paragraph when a particular fact jumped out at her. She frowned and reread the paragraph. Catherine looked down at the photos of the body and her jaw dropped. She then quickly picked up another eyewitness report, which confirmed what she had just read in Maria Gonzales statement. Catherine picked up the third and final eyewitness report and it said the same as the last two.

"Hey, Lara?" Catherine said still holding the report in her hand.

"Yeah?"

"On what evidence did the Rangers base the theory that Anita had just returned home from work when she was murdered?" Catherine asked.

"She was wearing a formal black blouse and her employee badge when she was found," replied Lara.

"Then you've got a problem," said Catherine.

"What?"

"According to your three eyewitnesses that placed Anita returning home at six, she was wearing a _white_ blouse, yet in the crime scene photo's she is wearing a black blouse," explained Catherine as she handed Lara the statements and the photographs.

Lara grabbed them from her and her eyes quickly scanned the documents; her eyes widened in shock.

"Oh, shit," she muttered.

**CSICSICSICSI**

Warrick Brown stood in the audio/visual room next to the lab's resident video whiz, Archie. They were both working on the now digitised snuff movie.

"Okay," said Warrick, "Let's run the whole thing back again from the beginning. This time without the sound."

Archie tapped a few keys on his computer's keyboard and the frames ran backwards.

"Alright," said Warrick as he once again watched the couple have sex. When the man got up he said, "Stop. Can you zoom in on his back?"

"Yeah," said Archie as he began to blow up the image size, zeroing in on the desired area.

"What is that? A mole?" asked Warrick as they peered at blurry, black blob that was on the man's neck.

"Non-cancerous," stated Archie.

"You think?" huffed Warrick, "too bad, the bastard."

As the continued to watch the tape, Warrick said, "This room is like a dime a dozen. It could be any room in Vegas."

"Between the drapes, can you get any other detail outside that window?" Warrick asked the tech.

"Er...I'll reverse the polarization," said Archie as his fingers flew over the keyboard, "See if we can get any more information."

Warrick narrowed his eyes as Archie pulled up a zoomed in image of the window and said, "That looks like a blob outside the window. Spherical...hm?"

Archie nodded in agreement, "I'll blow it up. Times ten."

A few more taps on the keyboard and the indistinct blob became more prominent.

"The Stratosphere Tower," said Warrick in pleased recognition. "South face maybe? Using the Stratosphere as a point of reference, can you triangulate and pinpoint the street that this was filmed on?"

Archie smirked, "I can."

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

"This doesn't prove anything," said Lara indignantly.

Catherine sighed in exasperation, "It throws out your whole forensic timeline!"

"Maybe she changed when she got home," said Lara.

"Oh, sure, she changed into a formal black blouse and pinned on her employee badge for a nice quiet evening of watching TV. Who doesn't?"

"Don't mock me, Willows," warned Lara.

"Then don't try and disregard the evidence," countered Catherine. "Look," she said in a calmer tone, "If we don't work the evidence properly, then an innocent man goes to prison and a killer walks free."

Lara sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, "Fine."

Catherine nodded her head, "Now, why didn't the coroner take a liver temp?"

"The heater was turned on, the place was practically a sauna," replied Lara. "Liver temp wasn't applicable."

"Now, I'm assuming the husband was the main suspect because of the obvious passionate nature of the crime," said Catherine.

Lara nodded, "There had been several domestic violence calls to 911 from neighbours. Mr. Meyers liked to beat Anita. A lot. When officers arrived on the scene they found the place completely trashed. Anita Meyers was almost unrecognizable; they had to first ID her by her employee's badge, then by DNA."

"Where was her husband at the time?"

"AWOL," said Lara, "Rangers picked him up a few hours later; his blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit."

Catherine arched a delicate eyebrow and said, "So he couldn't provide you with an alibi?"

"Couldn't even give us his name."

"Was a weapon used to kill Anita?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah. Fists," replied Lara, "When we found Eric Meyers, he was covered in blood and when the lab tested it, it was confirmed to be Anita's. That was the final nail in his coffin."

Catherine picked up the body shots of Eric Meyers. True enough, he was covered in blood; but when Catherine moved on the pictures of Eric's hands, they weren't bruised or cut.

"I'm now sure Eric Meyers didn't kill his wife," she said to Lara.

"How?"

"Look at his hands," said Catherine as she showed Lara the photos. "If he'd beaten his wife to death, his hands would be bruised and cut up."

Lara stared at the photo's without saying anything.  
>"I think you'd better phone your captain and book a flight," said Catherine. "You've got to reopen this case."<p>

**CSICSICSICSI**

The rustling of dead leaves in the chilled autumn wind filled the air as Griffin, Sara and Warrick were greeted by Detective Sulik in front of the abandoned hotel. This was the spot Archie had triangulated the origin of the snuff film.

"What's the deal with this place?" Warrick asked as they made their way to the entrance.

"Hotel's in receivership," explained Detective Sulik. "The security guy says the elevator still works."

"Yeah... we're gonna need to talk to him," said Warrick.

"As soon as he gets off the phone with the owner," answered Sulik as they entered the hotel. Griffin noticed said security guard off to the side speaking into his phone.

The lighting was very dim in the abandoned hotel; the lobby was strewn with out-dated furniture. The whole place had a creepy vibe to it. Like Ghost Face was about to jump out of a wardrobe with a knife in his hand.

Griffin clicked on her mini flash light and paused as she ran the beam over an old lamp.

"What's up?" asked Warrick as he came to stand next to her.

"Oh, nothing," she said. Then referred to the lamp and said in a humoured voice, "Only difference between kitsch and beautiful is time."

The trio of criminalist got in the elevator and rode it to the designated floor. They exited it and walked down a long hallway that was dotted with green doors on either side. The lights didn't work up here so they all had their flashlights on.

"Well," said Sara clearing her throat, "I'll take the first one. Warrick, you take the second. Griffin, the third?"

With that they all entered their respective rooms. In Griffin's room, there was only a bed with a side table on which was a lamp. The windows were partially covered with yellow curtains that did little to keep the sun out. Griffin held up the photo of the Stratosphere Tower, which was printed on projection paper, up to the window. She was disappointed to see that the images didn't line up. Warrick also had no luck. His room was identical to Griffin's, but instead of a bed and lamp, his room contained a bunch of uninstalled toilets. Sara's room was completely empty, but when she held up her picture, she found that it lined up beautifully with the Stratosphere Tower outside the window.

"Hey, Guys?" she called out. Sara glanced over her shoulder when Warrick and Griffin walked in, then back at the picture in her hand as she said, "We got it."

Griffin and Warrick stood behind Sara and peered over her shoulder at the corresponding picture and Tower. Warrick moved around the small room and observed, "Someone moved out all the furniture."

Griffin looked around the room as well; she flashed the beam of her torch to the side wall, narrowed her eyes and said, "And painted the wall."

Sara and Warrick stepped closer as Griffin put down her kit.

"If they can't see it, we can, huh?" said Warrick, still staring at the wall.

"Right," agreed Griffin as Warrick knelt by his kit and pulled out his ALS. As he ran the ultraviolet light over the wall, fluorescent smudges popped up all over the green paint.

"Arterial spray," said Griffin from her place next to Sara as she followed the trail of blood in the air with her index finger.

"There's a void," gestured Sara with her small finger. "It could be a...face?"

"Yeah, maybe," agreed Griffin.

Sara stared at the fluorescent arterial spray and asked in a soft, subdued voice, "How does someone cross the line where killing a woman is a turn on?"

"Oh, I don't think snuff-makers cross a line, Sara," Griffin answered, the disgust evident in her voice, "They start on the other side of it."

"Biology determining pathology," said Sara in a cynical, yet defeated voice. Griffin looked up sharply at her. A small frown creased the skin between her eyebrows.

"Yeah," smirked Warrick, "Some people are just born bad."

Warrick didn't notice the minute drop of Sara's shoulders; the tiniest defeated bow of her head.

"I don't believe that," said Griffin sharply, her eyes trained on Sara. The latter lifted her soft chestnut eyes in confusion to meet deep chocolate brown ones. Griffin held Sara's gaze as she said intently, "There is no such thing as a murder gene."

Sara's quiet gasp could only be heard by Griffin. Warrick, who was oblivious to the exchange between the two women, picked up his kit and said as he left the room, "Where's that security guard?"

Griffin held Sara's eyes for a second longer, making sure the weight of her words had registered with the older woman, before she too picked up her kit and followed Warrick.

_No such thing as a murder gene._ The words resonated in Sara's skull like an echo off cave walls. _How could she possible know to say that?_ thought Sara, still in a daze. She finally shook herself and began processing the room.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

"How long you been a day guard here?" Detective Sulik asked the young, dark haired security guard. Catherine and Warrick had joined Sulik in interrogation the security guard back in the lobby, whilst Sara processed what little evidence was left in the room.

"Four months," answered the guard, "But I don't know anything about the murder you're talking about."

"You know anything about who painted out room 918?" Warrick asked.

"No idea," said the guard.

_Liar_, thought Griffin as she watched a faint sheen of sweat break out on the young man's forehead; even though it was cool enough to need a coat inside the hotel. Just then something on the guard's dark jacket caught Griffin's eye.

"You should try a scalp conditioner," suggested Griffin as she leaned in closer to the guard, peering at his shoulder.

"What?" asked the guard in a confused voice, flinching back slightly when he noticed how close Griffin was.

"Your dandruff," said Griffin referring to the white flecks on the jacket, "Oh, my bad. Primer."

Griffin looked up at the guard with hard eyes and said in an even harder voice, "Alkyd-based."

She walked around and stood behind the guard, "Never comes out in the wash, but you already know that. Warrick?"

Warrick gave the guard a smouldering look before he joined Griffin behind the guard. He glanced down at the man's neck and saw a small black blob.

"You were in that snuff film," Warrick accused.

"You stabbed that girl," said Griffin, her voice as sharp as a knife. She glared at the guard with her dark eyes.

"I let them use the room to make a movie, that's all," said the guard defensively looking from Griffin to Warrick.

"Yeah," said Warrick, "We saw you in the movie, you and your nice _mole_."

"The guy threw in another two hundred if I'd have sex with the girl," said the guard in a pleading voice. "She was hot. So I figured, why not? Did her and left. She was breathing fine."

"So when you came back and saw the blood on the wall, did you think to call the police?" asked Warrick, his voice raised.

"I didn't wanna lose my job," replied the guard in a half shamed half pleading voice.

"Oh, how touching," said Griffin disgusted, "Arrest him."

Sulik stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs and said, "Turn around."

As Sulik walked the security guard outside Warrick said to Griffin, "Meet you back at the lab?"

Griffin nodded, "I'll help Sara finish, if you can processes Mr Bright Spark."

Warrick smirked and walked out the lobby. Sara came down then and joined Griffin.

"You finished?" Griffin asked.

"Yeah," said Sara, "Other than the photos of the blood, there's not much else."

"Let's get back to the lab," suggested Griffin, "Warrick's gonna process the guard for us. We could stop for something to eat if you'd like?"

"Sounds good," agreed Sara as they walked out the hotel and towards the Denali. Griffin popped the trunk and hefted her kit into the car, then stepped aside for Sara to do the same. As Sara settled her kit in the trunk Griffin asked her in a shaky voice, "Hey, Sara?"

Sara looked over at her partner. Griffin was bracing herself against the Denali. Her face was drained of any colour and a faint sheen of sweat had gathered on her brow.

"Griffin?" said Sara worriedly as the young woman swayed unsteadily on her feet. When Griffin began to slide to the ground, Sara lurched forward and to steady her. She helped Griffin to sit inside the trunk of the Denali and knelt before her.

"Griffin, what's wrong?" Sara asked, slightly frightened.

Griffin leaned her head against the side of the car and said in a breathless voice, "Insulin pack...in my bag...back seat."

Sara immediately understood and jumped to her feet. She rushed around the car, ripped the door open and located Griffin's satchel. Sara hastily rummaged through the bag and found the brown leather pack. When she had this in her hand, Sara returned to Griffin, holding out the pack. Griffin reached out to take it, but her hand was shaking so badly that Sara pulled it away and laid it down on the tar next to her. She then opened the pack before she helped Griffin to remove her coat. Sara then rolled up Griffin's sleeve, took the rubber tube and fastened it tightly around Griffin's arm. At this point Griffin seemed to be slipping out of consciousness.

"Stay with me Griffin," Sara said in a loud voice as she filled a syringe with insulin. She located a vein in Griffin's arm and plunged the needle in, injecting the fluid. Griffin gasped and her eyes flew open. Sara wiped a strand of hair from Griffin's face, her heart beating furiously.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked quietly.

Griffin nodded her head and moved to get up.

"Whoa," said Sara laying a restraining hand on Griffin's shoulder, "Just sit for a few minutes, okay?"

Griffin nodded weakly. After a few moments of silence Sara asked gently, "How often do you have to take the insulin?"

"Every six hours," said Griffin, her eyes still closed.

"How long has it been?"

"...Eleven."

Sara stayed silent as she simply watched Griffin's face. As she did this, something strong and protective awoke in Sara. Griffin had shown herself to be such a strong, independent woman, that this vulnerable side of her shocked Sara. It made her want to place herself in front of anything that wanted to harm this young woman who was always selflessly watching out for someone else.

Griffin took a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes instantly focused on Sara's, who was still kneeling in front of her.

"You okay?" Sara asked softly.

Griffin nodded weakly, "It's my own fault. I just got so busy...I guess I forgot to take the insulin."

"Here," said Sara as she pulled a cereal bar from her kit, "You should eat something."

Griffin looked at the cereal bar for a moment before she lifted her eyes. Sara was shocked to see a film of tears in those liquid chocolate eyes. Sara swallowed as she saw the level of gratitude that shone there, as if no one had ever done something nice for the young woman.

"_Thank you_," Griffin whispered as she took the cereal bar from Sara's hand. Sara gave a shaky smile as she helped Griffin to remove the rubber cord and put on her jacket. The pair then unceremoniously got in the car and returned to the lab...

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey Guys,**

**Sorry it's been so long since I updated, life has been hectic the past two weeks. Couple that fact with a severe form of writer's block and you get...late updates. **

**Anyway, here's a new chapter. I urge you guys to please continue this story, trust me, once they close the case, that's when the exciting stuff is going to start. How about a little teaser to keep you guys interested? One of the things that will happen in this story is...The connection between Griffin and Sara will be revealed. If you want to try and figure it out by yourself, a hint will be: don't think conventionally. This connection is a strong and complicated one.**

**Please keep reviewing; it helps counter the writer's block. Also, any suggestions are more than welcome. Feel free to PM me as well.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240**

**CSICSICSICSI**

There was something bothering Warrick about their case, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was sure they were missing something. Hence the reason, he was back in the AV room re-watching the bad snuff movie.

He fast forwarded the frames until he got to the scene where the Security Guard got up from the bed. Warrick then secluded and stilled the image, he continued forward to where the Killer appeared on screen. He then also secluded and stilled the image. Warrick looked at the two pictures side by side for a few moments. Suddenly, it was like wiping fog off a mirror. Warrick all of the sudden see what they had been missing!

He quickly pulled up a grid and measured the height of the man in each picture.

"Damn!" Warrick huffed, "The security guard was telling the truth. There is another guy there; he almost one and three-quarter inches taller than the security guard."

"Our minds must have filled in the negative space," said Sara from her position at Warrick's left as she shook her head.

"Look," said Griffin as she leaned in between her two colleagues and referred to the computer screen, "The security guard just left. You can see the door's shadow right there at the foot of the bed."

Warrick and Sara both peered closely at the indicated spot and sure enough the shadow of the door briefly flashed across the foot of the bed as it opened and closed.

"The camera stopped moving," observed Sara.

"That's because he's not _behind_ it," said Warrick, "He's in front of it."

"Well," said Griffin as she straightened, "Then that's our guy."

"There's got to be some way to ID him, right?" Griffin asked the older CSIs.

"I have enlarged and re-enlarged every single frame," said Warrick dejectedly, "There are no tats, there are no birthmarks, there's nothing there, G."

"What about the rest of the room?" Griffin asked, desperately grasping at any hope of finding some evidence.

"The film picks up everything there is to see, Griffin," Warrick said in a slightly irritated voice, "We've seen everything!"

Griffin was silent for a moment as she looked at the screen. Then she had an idea.

"Maybe there's a short end," she murmured.

"What?" asked a confused Warrick.

"Pornos use short ends of film," explained Sara, using her newly gained knowledge on the adult entertainment industry, "Which means they never know when they're gonna run out."

"Roll out," agreed Griffin, "Camera slows down, the last frame stutters, gets hit with more light."

"So," Warrick mused as he followed their train of reasoning, "There would be more visual information on it."

"Right," confirmed Griffin absentmindedly. Her eyes widened slightly as she said, "Good editors always cut the roll out."

**CSICSICSICSI**

"So, all your editor's cuttings are in there?" Griffin asked the film processor in a raised voice as she struggled to be heard over the pouring rain.

"Yep," said the snarky film processor as she led them to a metal drum filled with off cuts of film, "Negatives and unused dailies. Collection guy comes once a week. Silver in the film makes it environmentally unsafe for landfills, so..." she smirked as she looked down at the drum that was overflowing with cut offs of film.

"Be nice if people were as worried about the woman in these films," said Sara in a tenaciously sarcastic tone. Griffin had to suppress a grin as the film processor threw back her shoulders defensively and said, "I am the one that called y'all, remember? Knock yourselves out, ladies."

The film processor waved her hands between Griffin and Sara, rudely pushing them apart so as the get past them as she walked away.

"Thank you," said Griffin dryly as she watched with narrowed eyes as the film processor walked away. She then turned to the barrel and sighed in a loud a sarcastic voice, "Bins of sin."

"Well," said Sara as she and Griffin put down their kits and surveyed the barrel, "Looks like mostly 35mm. Our 16 should have settled... at the bottom?"

Griffin chuckled humourlessly as tugged at the tip of her CSI ball cap. She then helped Sara to tip over the huge barrel, spilling its content of film onto the ground in front of them.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

The rain continued to pour down loudly over Las Vegas, as Griffin and Sara scrounged through the off cuts of film. They had been at it for almost three hours and had gotten about a quarter of a way through the pile.

Eventually Sara, who was peering at a piece of film through a magnifying glass, broke the silence by saying, "You notice how many guys in these movies are wearing condoms?"

Griffin laughed quietly as she continued to go through her pile of film and explained, "Yeah, industry policy ever since '98. The even have a quarantine list of whose positive, whose not. That security guard wore one too; pretty surprising for unregulated porn."

"Maybe she made him wear one," said Sara as she picked up yet another piece of film. She looked at it closely for a moment with her flashlight before she broke out in a grin and said triumphantly, "I got it!"

"You did?" asked Griffin half excitedly half disbelieving.

"I got it, I found it," confirmed Sara her smile still plastered on her face.

"Thank God!" said Griffin relieved as she took the piece of film from Sara.

"Hot frame all right," she said as she looked at it, "I still can't see who it is."

"You can see a little more of the room though," said Sara, "There's a small table and a lamp in the left corner."

Griffin slowly smiled as she spotted it, "Good eye, Sara. Yeah, that... kitsch lamp. Somebody moved it out into the lobby."

"I'll have Warrick go back to the hotel and grab it," offered Sara.

"Yeah, that'll be great. Thanks."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Warrick and Griffin were in the layout room looking at developed still they had gotten from the piece of roll out.

"There's the lamp I got from the lobby," said Warrick pointing to the picture with his finger. "The bulb is red, in the film and here," he referred to the lamp on the table next to him.

Griffin leaned on the table and said, "Guy thinks he's Zelman King, playing with the lighting."

"Yeah, I guess he was going for a certain look," said Warrick.

"Mmm."

Warrick put the picture down as a thought occurred to him and he looked over at the lamp.

"You know if I unscrewed a hot light bulb," theorized Warrick as he walked over to the lamp, "I'd probably lick my fingers."

"Saliva," said Griffin as Warrick unscrewed the lamp's light bulb. "Guy replaced it with a red bulb, got residual saliva on it."

"I'll have Greg process it for DNA, run it through CODIS," said Griffin as she took the bulb from Warrick and exited the layout room.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Sara was feeling exhausted as she walked down the corridor's of CSI. Her shoulders hunched as she tiredly rubbed her burning her eyes.

"Sara!"

Sara spun around, her jaw clenching in fury as she heard her name spill from the lips of someone she despised. Hank Pettigrew hurried up to her and with every step he took Sara's jaw clenched harder. The sandy haired EMT stood right in front of her and Sara growled, "What do you want, Hank?"

"Sara," Hank pleaded in a low voice, "C'mon, I just wanted to talk."

"Was my knee in your groin to subtle for you?" Sara hissed furiously. "That was me telling you to get the hell out of my life!"

"Sara," said Hank in a tired voice, as if he were trying to explain something to a difficult toddler; this only pissed her off more. "I told you, that was an accident."

"Oh," said Sara with a sarcastic smile as she folded her arms over her chest, "So, my face happened to be in the way of the back of your hand?"

Hank's face darkened into a scowl and he growled, "Why must you always be so difficult?"

"Why are you still bothering me?" Sara retorted as she turned away.

Hank suddenly grabbed her arm roughly and spun her around into his chest and whispered furiously into her ear, "You know, that smart mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble someday, Sara."

"Get your hands off me, Hank," Sara warned even as a hint of fear worked her way into her voice. She already hated herself for that touch of fear, after all; Sara was not her mother. Hank's grip just tightened as his eyes narrowed. Just as her free hand touched the butt of her Glock, Sara felt a presence beside her and, despite the tense situation she was in, with Hank's grip only tightening with every second he held on, Sara felt her whole body relax. She felt at ease; safe.

"If you want to keep that hand," said Griffin nonchalantly, not even looking up, as she continued to read the report in her hands, "I suggest you get it off her."

Hank looked down at the small girl and, because he still held onto her arm, Sara felt a shiver course through him as he looked at Griffin.

_Strange_, thought Sara as she tilted her head to the side (now that she felt Griffin's calming presence, Sara could afford to be analytical), _he almost looks like she makes him nervous._

The more Sara thought about it, the more she realized that Griffin seemed to radiate a dangerous aura, an energy that seemed to scream 'back the f*** off'. Yet, Sara only ever felt safe and calm in Griffin's presence. As if no harm could befall her so long as the dark haired girl was at her side...

"And who the hell are you?" Hank sneered. Griffin looked up and then flipped the file shut with an audible snap.

"I'm the one who's going to rip your arm out of its socket if you don't let go of Sara," Griffin said in a dangerously calm voice, her dark eyes flashing menacingly. After a few seconds of silence, in which Hank still didn't let go of Sara's arm, Griffin smirked and taunted, "You must be a special kind of stupid, you know that?"

Hank's eyes narrowed and he sneered, "Really? Why's that, Little Girl?"

Griffin seemed totally unfazed by the taunt and her smirk simply grew more pronounced as she answered, "Only a _complete_ idiot would walk into a Police Department filled with armed cops and assault a fellow officer of the law, in _broad_ daylight. Knowing how defensive cops get over their own kind."

Griffin's words seemed to register with Hank. He clenched his jaw and bowed his head and looked to the side, as if only now realised where he was. Sara watched Hank's jaw clench and unclench twice before he finally released Sara's arm. She let out an almost inaudible gasp as blood once again flowed through her arm, but Griffin's eyes still flashed briefly towards Sara, filled with concern. Sara rubbed her now reddened arm and gave a small nod of her head towards Griffin, confirming she was okay. Griffin's jaw clenched and her eyes hardened as she once again turned back to the EMT.

"This is the part where you leave," Griffin said as if she were talking to a mentally disabled person.

Hank scowled as he stepped back and said to Sara, "This isn't over, Sara."

Sara's face hardened and she growled, "Good-bye, Hank."

Hank looked at Griffin from the corner of his eye before he turned and walked out of CSI. Sara stiffened as she waited for the bombard of questions that she was sure was going to come flowing from Griffin. But the young CSI once again surprised Sara when, instead of interrogating Sara about Hank, flipped open the folder and said, "Greg got a hit on the residual DNA from the kitsch lamp. It belongs to one Douglas Sampson. The guy did three years for sexual assault and battery. Warrick and I are on our way to his official residence to question him with Sulik."

Sara blinked at the sudden change of topic, and before she could register what she was doing, she blurted out, "What, no twenty questions?"  
>Griffin arched a delicate eyebrow before she sighed and once again closed her file. She folded her arms across her full chest and said, "Sara, I haven't know you very long, but I've come to know a few things about you. For instance, you don't like being labelled a victim; which is why you haven't told anyone about that bruise I'm assuming that idiot Hank gave to you. You like people to know you can take care of yourself, so you never ask for help even when you know you need it... In fact, I'm actually starting to think you don't know how to ask for help."<p>

Sara swallowed past the lump in her throat as Griffin continued in a softer tone, "That's why I know that if I bombard you with questions, or threaten to tell Grissom about this, that you will become defensive and pissed off and end up shutting me out completely.

"So, even though it causes me _serious_ trepidation" said Griffin with a sigh, "I'm going to trust that you know what you're doing; and hope that you will trust me enough to let me help. Because you need to realise that you are a strong, beautiful, highly intelligent, independent woman and _no_ man is _ever_ allowed to make you feel inferior without your consent."

Sara stared at Griffin in complete shock; she had not been expecting this. She was expecting to argue, fight, plead, and eventually beg Griffin to drop the subject. Yet, here Griffin was saying that she wasn't going to force the door open, she wanted Sara to open it willingly.

Griffin reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card and pen. She scribbled something on the back of the card before she handed it back to the brunette in front of her.

"If you do decide to trust me, which I _sincerely_ hope you do," Griffin said as she looked intently at Sara with her fathomless brown eyes, "Here's my personal cell number and my home address. _Anytime_ you need me for _any_ reason, day or night; you call me, okay?"

Sara stared at the small piece of card that was held out to her before she took it. She struggled for a moment to speak past the lump in her throat that was threatening to dissolve into tears, before she whispered, "Thank you."

Griffin smiled before she gently caressed Sara's upper arm and walked away; leaving Sara alone in the hallway staring at the card in her hand...

**Don't shoot me! I would never let a bastard like Hank get away with hurting our Sara. He's gonna pay ;). Please don't forget to review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey Guys,**

**Thanks for the reviews; it means so much to me. I really love that you guys love this story. Just a quick reminder, this story will eventually enter the supernatural realm, but not in the way you might think. As to the point of GSR, I've been sitting for hours trying to figure out how to incorporate it into Death Row, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to. In season 3 Grissom was so obsessed with losing his hearing that he noticed nothing else and Sara (who I think was trying to get over Grissom) was involved with that idiot Hank. I love GSR, so there will be romance between Sara and Griss, but not in Death Row. Maybe I'll be able to work in a scene or two, we'll see.**

**One last thing. About 'dumbing down the characters in order to showcase Griffin'. That was not my intention, if you go and watch season 3.08, Snuff you'll see that it was actually Catherine who took the lead on this case with Sara and Warrick assisting. And we all know and love how bossy Catherine can be. I tried to change the dialogue some to fit with Griffin's personality, but it's difficult to keep things cannon whilst incorporating a whole new character.**

**Anyway. Enjoy.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin eyed the houses on the block they had pulled up in as she and Sulik walked up to one of the houses. It seemed like a stereotypical suburban residential area. Not quite up market, but neat enough for respectable owners. It definitely did not look like the kind of place that would house a snuff film maker.

As Sulik rang the doorbell of Sampson's house, Griffin was aware of 'porn' music and muffled moans coming from the house. An oily looking man with blood shot blue eyes answered the door. He sniffed as he looked over the trio of law enforcement officers that stood in his doorway.

Sulik held up his badge and said, "Douglas Sampson?"

The man sniffed again and said, "Yeah?"

"The same Douglas Sampson who did three years for sexual assault and battery?" asked Griffin who stood next to Sulik.

Sampson coughed and said in a bored voice, "Did. Past tense."

"We wanna talk to you about a recent homicide at the Mandolin Tower Hotel off Freemont," said Sulik.

"I'm working," said Sampson indignantly.

Sulik and Griffin looked over their shoulders at Warrick who stood at the entrance to the driveway with the security guard from the hotel. Griffin raised an eyebrow and the guard nodded his head emphatically, confirming that this was the man who had hired him.

Griffin looked back at Sampson and said in a voice that brooked no argument, "Take a break."

Sulik smirked smugly as he pushed past Sampson into the house.

"Take ten, guys," said Sampson to the couple in the table, "C'mon, give it a rest."

As Griffin entered the house she saw a young man quickly get off a scantily dressed blonde and quickly zip up his pants. The pair then made a hasty exit from the room.

Griffin eyes trailed over Sampson's figure and she said, "I bet I can guess your exact height."

"What?"said Sampson confused.

Sulik opened his file and produced a picture of their victim and said, "That guy out front confirmed that you shot a snuff film with this girl at the Mandolin Tower Hotel."

Sampson shrugged with his mouth and shook his head saying, "I've stayed there over the years. I never saw her or that guy outside."

"We've got you on film, killing her," said Griffin.

"If you had me from any angle I could be identified," said Sampson with a smirk, "You would've arrested me by now."

Griffin chuckled and said in a slightly impressed voice, "We've got ourselves a film student here."

"I'm one of the best in the adult film industry," said Sampson smugly, "And I'll be making the jump to mainstream, just you watch."

"Financed by a snuff film?" Griffin asked incredulously.

Sampson clenched his jaw and said in a defensive tone, "You have no right to be in my house. I'm not breaking any laws; I have a permit for adult film production. You leave now, or I'm gonna file a complaint."

Sampson sniffed and wiped his nose with a tissue.

"Getting a cold?" Griffin asked with a raised eyebrow, "Maybe you should raise the heat. I don't think they'll mind." Griffin jerked her head to where the porn 'stars' were huddled in a corner.

Griffin and Sulik exited the house and walked back down the driveway to their respective cars. Griffin was starting to feel frustrated with their lack of evidence. She scanned the area for her partner when she saw him kneeling by a car.

"Hey, what have you got?" she asked the green eyed CSI.

"This is Sampson's car, right?" Warrick asked as he trailed the beam of his flashlight over the wheel arch. "Some soil up in this wheel well. He washed the tyre but forgot the well."

"Butterscotch?" Griffin asked as she looked at the yellow coloured dirt.

"Yeah," confirmed Warrick. "I worked a body dump with Catherine a few years back, down near the Colorado. Bidahochi Range. There was an abundance of butterscotch soil down there."

"I'll radio the sheriff up there and the park rangers," said Sulik.

"Great," said Griffin as she straightened from her crouched position.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Warrick was walking down the halls of CSI towards his office, having just come back from his house. He felt better now that he'd had a shower, gotten some sleep and eaten a meal. Warrick had just passed Greg's lab, the spiky haired lab rat waving at him as Warrick walked past, when his phone rang.

"Brown," he answered.

"_I think we got your snuff film girl,"_ said Sulik over the phone.

Warrick froze in his tracks and he said, "Where?"

"_Rivers Edge, Navajo County."_

"Okay," said Warrick already reaching in his pocket for his car keys, "I'll be right there."

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Griffin and Sara, both sporting light blue lab coats, entered the morgue. They were greeted by Doc Robbins who asked, "Did Warrick stick you with Post?"

"He's working the evidence from the river bed," said Sara as she and Griffin stood by the dead body on the metal slab.

"You gonna be able to ID her, Doc?" Griffin asked.

"Already did from her fingerprints," said Robbins. "Susan Hodap, 26. Exsanguination from a transection of the carotid artery."

Robbins indicated the wound at her throat with a latex gloved finger, "Slicing stab."

"Any chance of finding serration marks on the bone?" Sara asked.

Robbins frowned and said, "To tie to a knife?"

Sara nodded.

Robbins shrugged, "Yeah, that'll entail a boil, but sure, I can try. What I can tell you conclusively was that Susan Hodap was already on borrowed time. I tapped her cerebral spinal fluid, didn't wait for a batch, had the lab run it solo. She was HIV positive."

Griffin and Sara exchanged a raised eyebrow look. Obviously, sharing the same thought.

"Thanks, Doc," said Griffin as she and Sara hurried out the morgue.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Griffin and Sara were, yet again, in the AV lab. Griffin was working on the laptop whilst Sara dictated to her.

"Susan Hodap," said Sara and Griffin's nimble fingers flew over the keyboard. When she had hit enter the Adult Entertainment Health Network site filtered the information to show them the desired fields.

"There it is," said Griffin as she followed the row with her finger. "Tested positive 6 months ago."

"I can't believe that porn actors monthly health records are on the internet," said Sara as she shook her head in disbelief.

"Yeah, right," agreed Griffin, "Rule is, if the actor tests positive twice, the go on permanent quarantine."

Griffin scrolled down the list then gestured to Susan Hodap's second entry and read, "Quarantined."

"That's why she ended up in that snuff film," said Sara as she cupped her neck and braced her elbow on the table. "She got bounced out of regular porn."

Griffin looked over at Sara and said, "She walked right into her own death scene."

They were silent for a moment before Griffin's eyes lit up with a thought.

"The thing is," she said to Sara, "The porn director may have too."

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Sara was looking intently at the evidence packet in her hand as she walked down the hall, so she nearly jumped out of her skin when a phone book came flying out of one of the adjacent rooms, narrowly missing her. She heard a loud cuss follow the phone book. Sara walked into the room and saw Warrick staring dejectedly at a blood stained curtain.

"Why are you throwing phone books?" Sara asked.

"Cos a beaker gets glass all over the place," said Warrick frustrated.

"What's wrong?" Sara inquired.

"It's this curtain that the porn girl was found wrapped in," Warrick referred to the piece of material with a disgusted gesture, "I've got no prints, no second donor. I've got nothing to link this porn guy to the girl's murder!"

Warrick gave a tired sigh and said, "It's just driving me nuts."

Sara folded her arms and rested her chin on her fist as she said in an amused tone, "I'm fine."

Warrick looked down at her and said apologetically, "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Sara grinned at him amused by his frustration and said, "Yeah, you missed me by a mile. We may have something."

"Really?" asked Warrick sceptically.

"Right here, I wanted to show you," said Sara held up the evidence bag she was carrying to the light as Warrick sat down on top of the table, "When he was stabbing her, she's bleeding all over him."

"Well," said Warrick, "The void proves that, but we still can't prove that it's him."

"Yeah," agreed Sara as she turned to him, "But her blood might. Griffin and I suspect transference. She had HIV."

"Well, how are going to get a sample of Sampson's blood?" Warrick pointed out.

"Warrant," replied Sara with a smug smile, "Based on the butterscotch dirt that _you_ found on his car."

"Oohh, I like that," said Warrick finally giving into the fact that they might have actually made headway in their case.

"You might wanna...apologise the phone book," suggested Sara sarcastically not missing Warrick's rolling eyes as she walked out.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

_**3 Days later.**_

"Okay, one more time for the record," said Sulik, "You have never had sexual intercourse with Susan Hodap?"

"I told you, I've never even met her," said Sampson irritated.

"I know," said Sulik, "But I have to ask. You've never had sex with her?"

"Not ever!" said Sampson.

In the Observation booth Griffin smirked at Sara as the joined Sulik in the interrogation room.

"You still have those chills, Mr Sampson?" Griffin asked as she and Sara walked in. "Feeling hot, achy? Back of your throat scratchy?"

"Yeah, it is," said Sampson.

Griffin nodded and Sara said, "Original flu. It happens on the onset of HIV."

"Seroconversion," Griffin filled in as she came to stand next to her partner, "Usually presents two to six weeks after the exchange of fluids."

"Exchange of fluids?" asked Sampson confused.

"That temperature is your body working up a resistance against the virus," explained Sara.

"HIV? Me?" repeated Sampson in a disbelieving tone. "C'mon you just took my blood a few days ago."

"Private lab can run a virus test within a day," said Griffin, "CDC doesn't broadcast that. Tests are very expensive."

"We dipped into the budget, _just_ for you," said Sara with a mock friendly smile.

"You're playing me," said Sampson, still desperate to believe the CSIs were bluffing, "I don't have HIV."

"Susan Hodap had it," said Sara, "The exact same strain that you do."

"We had that lab do what's called a phylogenetic analysis of your HIV's DNA," said Griffin as she laid the report on the table in front of Sampson, "And Susan's."

"As you can see, the genes are identical, which means Susan gave it directly to you," said Sara.

"But we never had sex," protested Sampson.

"But you _did_ stab her, though," countered Sara.

"And at that moment..." continued Griffin, "Her arterial blood hit your eyes, entering your blood stream through the conjunctival membrane."

"Non-sexual transmission is _extremely_ difficult," said Sara, "But obviously not impossible. Susan's blood was absorbed into your blood stream..."

"Where the new HIV cells immediately began to attaching to your healthy white blood cells," finished Griffin, "Get's inside one...replicates about 2000 times. Disables the host cell and pinches back out, infecting more good blood cells. Lowering your immune system until your body loses its ability to fight off even the simplest invaders."

"Of course," said Sara, "The strains will have changed by then and you and Susan will have a different strain of HIV. The sooner you see a doctor, the better your chance for longevity."

"But for now," said Griffin with a smug smirk, "We got you... _You_ killed her."

Sampson bit his lip in trepidation, realising there was now no way out of this.

Sara looked down at him with hard eyes and said, "I guess she killed you back."

**Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm feeling generous and I had this one written a while ago, so I figured I'd upload it. It has to be one of my favourites. Let me know what you think.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Nick sat on the bench in front of his locker, tiredly rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to work up the incentive to get changed and go home. But his body seemed uninterested in following his commands. So this is how Griffin found him when she walked into the locker room two minutes later.

"Hey," she greeted in her soft, velvet voice as she opened her locker and grabbed her bag.

"Hi," said Nick as he turned his head slightly towards her. He was once again hit with just how beautiful she was. It stole his breath away as he watched the small stream of sunlight, which poured through the small window at the back of the locker room, dance along her dark tresses of hair.

"Congrats on wrapping up that snuff case," said Nick over his shoulder as he turned back to pulling on his boots, "Warrick said you knocked that one out of the park."

"Thanks," said Griffin as she closed and locked her locker, "But it was a team effort. I would never have been able to solve it without Rick or Sara...Speaking of which, I heard about yours and Grissom's case. Down's Syndrome kid who was killed by a cowboy?"

"Yeah," huffed Nick, "Glad we caught that bastard. Who kills someone just because they're different?"

"Same kinda person who kills a girl to make a movie," answered Griffin as she leaned her back against her locker.

"I guess so," mumbled Nick as he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed his tired face. "Man, this world is thoroughly screwed up."

"Hey," said Griffin in a quiet voice as she straddled the bench next to him and placed a warm, tiny hand on his broad shoulder. "Are you okay? You seem a little down."

Nick inhaled the soft, heady scent of lavender that enveloped him as the dark eyed beauty sat next to him. Nick let out a sigh as he turned his head towards her and said, "My sister turned up a few days ago asking for help on a case. She's a Texas Ranger back home."

"And you're sad because she's left?" Griffin asked.

"More like relieved," said Nick.

"You don't have a good relationship with her?"

"It's more complicated than that."

"...I have time."

Nick gazed into her concerned eyes for a few moments before he dropped his chin to his chest and clasped his hands in front of him. He was quiet for a few more moments before he began.

"Patriotism is very important in my family. My Grandfather fought in Vietnam, my dad did three tours before he became a District Attorney, and then went on to become a Judge. So, my siblings and I all grew up wanting to become civil servants. Lara, my older sister, signed up with the Core when she graduated high school. Man, you should have seen my dad's face when she deployed the first time...He was so proud. And she did well. Worked her way up to Sergeant by the time she was twenty two."

"Your dad had every right to be proud of her," said Griffin, "That's quite impressive."

"Yeah, except the only problem now was living up to her example," said Nick, turning his head towards her. He then asked, "Did you know I'm a twin?"

Griffin shook her head.

"Yeah, me and my twin brother, Ethan, we couldn't wait to turn eighteen to sign up. We were fourteen when Lara joined, and wanted more than anything to join her. We even signed up to be cadets in high school. My dad was, of course, thrilled that we were so eager to serve our country. But when we graduated, I was offered a full scholarship to UNLV to play football. At the time the only thing I loved more than joining the Marines was playing football. I was pretty good too; Quarterback."

"Why am I not surprised?" Griffin smirked.

Nick smiled and chuckled, "Yeah. But let me tell you, it was like World War 3 in my house when I decided to accept the scholarship. My dad and Lara were furious that I wouldn't perform, what in their mind was, my 'patriotic duty'. My mother, I think, was relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about three of her four children risking their lives. Ethan was on my side. The thing about Ethan was that he was good to the core. He always believed the best of people, you know? Sure, he was disappointed that I wouldn't be with him, but he respected my decision. Lara on the other hand...not so much. We ended at a stalemate, with me sticking to my decision and my father and Lara thinking me a coward.

"So, I left for UNLV, Ethan left for training, and Lara redeployed for her second tour. Everyone was insanely proud of Ethan when he deployed almost a year later, including me. God, I loved my brother so much, I would've done anything for him."

Griffin smiled when Nick paused. He struggled for the next few moments, fighting against tears as he tried to put the next part of the story into words. But Griffin put a comforting hand on his shoulder again and whispered, "It's okay, Nick. You can tell me."

Nick took a deep breath before he continued.

"Ethan had only been in Iraq for a few months, but he was doing very well. Lara was in Afghanistan at the time, but Ethan didn't need her to look out for him. He could take care of himself quite well. Ethan had this partner, Dana, when he'd write about her, it was clear he was completely smitten. The feelings appeared to be mutual. One night, him and his team were performing a raid on a compound that they had Intel was housing several members of Al-Qaeda. Everything was going smoothly...until they were ambushed. They fought their way out all the while taking fire.

"Dana was with the on the raid, protecting Ethan's six, like always. When they were retreating Dana got hit in her leg. She was down and Ethan ran back to help her. They managed to get back to the chopper that was waiting to evacuate the team and Ethan made sure Dana and the rest of his platoon got in whilst he covered them. But as he was getting in...He took three rounds to his back. They took off and made it back to base and rushed him to the base doctor...but my brother... didn't make it..."

"Oh, Nick," Griffin said in a broken whisper.

"When I got the call from Lara, I didn't want to believe her...I couldn't. My brother..." at this point Nick's voice broke and he hung his head, drawing in a shaky breath and Griffin rubbed his back comfortingly.

"I blamed myself," continued Nick, "Maybe if I had been there, I could have protected him. Lara felt the same. My mother was heartbroken. Ethan had been the very heart of our family, the light. After he died, my mother put her foot down. She said no more of her children would join the army. I was relieved. I didn't want that life for my youngest sister, Maddie. She was like Ethan, completely good and full of life and eager to serve her country. Lara was discharged after her second tour was completed. I returned to Las Vegas and dropped the football scholarship; choosing to focus on forensic science instead. I kept in contact with my mom and Maddie, but I haven't had much contact with my father or Lara. They still blame me for not joining up with Ethan. Sometimes I think they'd have preferred that I was the one who died instead of him. I know that I do."

"Nick, you can't mean that," said Griffin. She then placed her hand under his chin and forced him to look at her and said intently, "Your brother sacrificed his life for the woman he loved. Even if you had been there, there was nothing you could've done. Most likely you would only have ended up dead beside your brother. And your parents would've had to bury two sons instead of only one."

Nick lowered his eyes and swallowed thickly.

Griffin was quiet for a few moments before she took Nick's hand into hers and said, "I think I know what you need..."

**CSICSICSICSI**

Griffin was right. This is exactly what Nick needed. He laughed out loud at the feeling of the wind in his face and the powerful muscles of the horse beneath him as he galloped up the grassy slope. He looked over to his right and saw Griffin racing along beside him, a grin of pure pleasure etched on her face. Her hair was like a dark comet trailing behind her. Nick felt his heart warm at the sight. Even though he didn't know her very well, Nick had never felt this kind of chemistry with any other woman. They came to a slow walk beside each other, both of them laughing breathlessly.

"You were right," said Nick, "This was exactly what I needed. I must say, after working that case on the ranch, it made me itch to get back in the sadle."

Griffin grinned as she expertly dismounted her black stead. Nick did the same and they walked along side by side towards the stables.

"How did you come by this place?" Nick asked curiously.

"I own it," said Griffin simply. Nick came to an abrupt halt and Griffin paused beside him.

"You...own it?" Nick said in a disbelieving voice.

"Yeah, all 900 acres," said Griffin as the continued to walk the gravel crunching beneath their boots, "I actually have several ranches like this in New York, Washington, and Miami."

"So, basically every place you've lived?"

"Yeah," said Griffin with a lopsided smile.

"How come?"

At this stage they had reached the stable and Griffin was quiet as the unsaddled the horses and put them into their respective stalls. Nick had started to think that Griffin wasn't going to answer him, they had exited the stable and were walking down the gravel road to the big house when she said, "The ranches are called Safe Haven."

"Safe Haven?"

"Yes. When I was a teenager-"

"Aren't you technically still a teenager?" Nick asked with a cheeky grin.

Griffin laughed and elbowed him in the ribs before she continued, "Okay, let me put it this way. When I was younger, I often felt like I didn't belong. I felt different than who I was supposed to be. When I got into law enforcement, I found that I wasn't the only one who felt this way. So I founded Safe Haven.

"I'm in contact with several shelters, rehabs, and CPS, and when they find teenagers who are especially troubled, they send them to Safe Haven."

"So, is it like a rehab?" Nick asked as they continued to walk.

"Not really," said Griffin, "It's more like a place for troubled kids of any age to go. Kids who have aged out of the system are offered board and lodging and a small wage in exchange for helping out on the ranch. Same goes for all the other teens. In the process, we rehabilitate them, help them through whatever problems they have and equip them with whatever skills they need to survive in the world. Then, when we think they are ready, we set them up with jobs and let them live their lives. Sometimes, they choose to stay on and become counsellors and some go on to make successes of themselves."

Nick was at a loss for words. This woman just became more and more extraordinary the more he found out about her.

"That's...pretty incredible, you know that," said Nick as he paused and looked down at her. Griffin smiled and gazed back at him just as intently.

"You're pretty incredible," Nick whispered as he reached out and tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

Griffin opened her mouth to speak, but they were interrupted by a young man who came bursting out the Big House.

"Griffin!" he called as he barrelled towards Griffin and Nick. When he got near them, he swooped Griffin up into a bear hug and swung her around.

"Your back!" he greeted enthusiastically as he gently set her down. "It's so good to see you."

Griffin laughed and said, "It's good to see you too, Hunter."

Hunter was a young Native American of about sixteen. Despite his age, he was as tall as Nick, and powerfully built with long black hair that was pulled back with a rubber band.

"Oh, hey man," said Hunter with a bright smile as he held out his hand, "I'm Hunter."

Nick smiled as he shook the young man's hand, "Nick Stokes. A pleasure."

Hunter turned his bright smile back on Griffin and said, "Where've you been, loca?"

"Working," Griffin laughed, "Like you should be!" at this she turned him around and gave him a playful kick in the ass.

Hunter laughed and jogged off saying, "Come visit soon, we'll catch up! It was nice meeting you, Nick."

"Nice meeting you too!" called Nick. Then turning to Griffin asked, "Who was that?"

"Hunter. He came here with me from Washington. He helps run the place."

"Hunter is... an unusual name," stated Nick.

"No more unusual than Griffin," she mumbled under her breath. Nick quirked an eyebrow at her and she simply rolled her dark eyes at him.

"It's an alias," explained Griffin. "Most of the kids here have one."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"It allows them to create their own identities and discard the ones they didn't choose themselves. When Hunter first arrived, he chose the name Burden."

"Burden?"

"Yes, Burden. Because that's how he felt inside. But then he learned how to provide, how to be of service. When he realised this, he chose the name Hunter. Now he sees himself no longer as a burden, but as a provider," said Griffin. "Doubter became Stephen. Mara (which means bitterness) became Amanda, and I became Griffin," said the girl as the finally reached the big house and sat down on the swing chair.

"You chose the name Griffin?" Nick asked with a raised eyebrow.

Griffin's forehead crumpled slightly as she chose her next words carefully, "Not...exactly. People...people who I...worked with... chose the name for me. My old name meant Stranger, which explains why I never felt I belonged anywhere."

"But why is there such an importance in these names?" Nick asked confused. "After all, 'What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet'."

Griffin looked at him sideways before she smirked and said, "You've been hanging around Grissom too long."

Nick gave a throaty chuckle.

"Names have power. When names were first generated, people didn't simply hear, for example, the syllables, 'Nick'. They heard the promise behind your name, they heard what made your name unique," explained Griffin.

"And that is?" Nick asked with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Nicholas, in its original Greek form means, 'Might of the People'. Which explains why you are always looking out for others," said Griffin with a smile as she playfully bumped his shoulder with hers.

Nick laughed and asked, "But why the name Griffin? What does it mean?"

Griffin was silent as she gazed out at the sun that was setting over Safe Haven; it was about a minute later when she said, "It means, Strong in Faith."

Nick was silent as he watched her; not that he didn't have another million questions on his mind, but he found that they all were sticking in his throat. The light of the fading sun set Griffin's hair ablaze and the warm light caressed her impossibly long eyelashes, the prominence of her high cheek bones, and the gentle curve of her full lips. When Griffin turned to look at him, the golden light caught her eyes and turned them an even richer colour of brown. Like molasses honey. Almost instinctively, Nick lowered his head, his gaze intent on her gorgeous mouth. His lips were a hairs breadth from touching hers, when she said in a soft whisper, "I can't do this."

It was as if cold water had suddenly been thrown over him. Just like that the Siren's Song was broken and Nick lifted his head. He felt slightly foolish as he shifted in his seat and asked, "Why not?"

Griffin seemed to struggle to answer this, but she finally said, "I'm kinda seeing someone..."

Nick looked at her from the corner of his eye and said, "You don't sound so sure of that."

Griffin shrugged and said, "He recently moved out here. We met when I was in Washington. He's nice and all, but..."

"He's more serious about you than you are about him?" Nick asked.

Griffin nodded, "He's so adamant that we'll work...I want to give him a chance."

Nick was suddenly overcome with jealousy over this faceless man who had laid claim to this remarkable young woman.

"Well," he said in a husky voice, lowering his mouth to her ear, "If things don't work out..."

An involuntary shudder ran through Griffin before she turned to look at him.

"I'll be waiting in the wings," Nick finished as he gently ran the back of his index finger along her cheek bone.

Griffin stared at him for a long moment before she abruptly got up and said, "We should...uh...we should go...It's getting late."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey Guys,**

**I'm finally getting around to updating! I hope you are all as excited as I am when I post a new chapter. Sorry about the late update, I started a new job this week and I've been too exhausted by the time I get home to write anything.**

**For all my fellow GSR fans out there, I managed to work in some Grissom/Sara lovin, so I want to get some reviews if you love it ;). I would love to hear what your guys' theories are on Griffin. What do you think is her deep connection with Sara? Remember, don't think to conventionally. Also let me know if there is a particular episode or scene that you would like to see in this story. I like to keep my reader's happy ;).**

**Feel free to PM me as well. **

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSICSI  
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Griffin opened the door to her secluded town house and tiredly stumbled into the dimly lit living room. She was still reeling from the heavily charged moment she had with Nick. Griffin braced herself against the marble counter of her kitchen and closed her eyes as she recalled the feel of Nick's feather light touch over her cheek. As if of their own accord, Griffin's fingers followed the path that Nick's had taken over her cheekbone and down along her jaw. For a moment, her memory turned into a fantasy. One in which she had not stopped Nick from brushing his strong lips against hers.

_STOP IT!_ She ordered herself fiercely. _This is NOT your mandate. Romance is _not_ the reason you are here._

But then again...it never was.

Griffin shook her head in self disgust as she walked purposefully into her bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. She quickly stripped off her black on black work clothes and jumped into the shower. Griffin let out a long breath and focused on relaxing her muscles one by one under the searing spray. She then picked up her favourite lavender scented oils and began massaging them into her skin. Griffin wasn't one for cosmetics, but skin and hair products were one thing she indulged in. Not the anti-aging junk, but simple luxury items that helped her relax after a long, hard day. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a soft, white towel around her. As Griffin re-entered her bedroom she flipped on the light as she wrung the water from her freshly washed hair. The feel of the thick carpet beneath her felt like heaven to her aching feet.

The soft growl from her stomach urged Griffin to quickly braid back her wet hair and slip into something more comfortable. As she walked into the kitchen she switched on the TV and saw there was a re-run of Touched by an Angel.

_That's ironic,_ she smirked as she opened the fridge and grabbed some fresh fruit and a bottle of water. Griffin flopped down onto her couch with her light meal and flipped through the channels for a few moments before she decided on watching a Friends marathon that was showing. She had finished her meal about a half hour later and without her realising, her eyes had slowly drifted closed as she fell asleep.

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Griffin was startled awake by the sound of someone furiously banging on her front door. Disorientated, she looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and saw it was nearly 11 pm.

_Who on God's green earth is bothering me at this late hour?_ She thought irritantly to herself. Griffin dragged herself off the couch as another round of assault started on her door.

"I'm coming," she grumbled. Griffin ripped the door open, ready to tear whoever was bothering her hour a new one. But as she drew in a breath to yell, Griffin froze.

"I...I didn't know where else to go..." said Sara in a husky, broken voice. The first thing Griffin noticed was that Sara was cradling her left arm which was bleeding profusely. Griffin couldn't actually see the wound because it was covered by the sleeve of what had once been a floral printed, long sleeved shirt. The next thing she noticed was the bruise on Sara's cheek, which had begun to heal over the course of their snuff case, but now looked fresh. As Griffin's dark eyes followed the trail of tears down Sara's stained cheeks she saw that the corresponding side of Sara's top lip was split open and raw. But what worried Griffin the most was the steady stream of blood that poured from Sara's hairline.

All this Griffin took in a quarter of a second before Sara swayed unsteadily on her feet and collapsed. Griffin lurched forward and caught Sara in her arms before she could hit the floor...

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

The first thing that registered with Sara was the profound pounding in her head. She groaned as she gingerly touched her forehead and sat up. Nausea racked her body causing her to freeze and take a few deep breaths. Once the nausea had passed, Sara slowly opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. She was in a darkened room, but there was enough light for Sara to see that the general colour scheme was royal blue and cream. The decor was obviously expensive but not excessive. It was subtle, tasteful. Sara found that she liked the schema, it suited her well. She knew the bedding was expensive because she could feel the 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets beneath her fingers.

Sara looked around and saw a glass of water on the side table next to the bed. As she reached for it she noticed that her left forearm was wrapped in a long strip of white gauze.

"What the hell?" said Sara aloud as she registered the stinging pain in her arm. She racked her brain trying to figure out what had happened. Sara started to panic when she realised she could not remember what happened to her. She sat up straighter in the bed and the comforter fell off her. Sara looked down and saw she was wearing expensive, good quality black sweats and a maroon tank top. Again, Sara was racked with confusion; she had never owned clothes like these. She placed the palm of her hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut against the pounding in her head as she tried to remember what the hell happened to her...

_Hank!_

Sara swung her mile long legs off the side of the bed as the memories suddenly came rushing back to her.

_Sara had come home after shift feeling rundown. She was so glad she had the next night off, so she could get a few hours sleep and hopefully get a decent meal. She could maybe even catch up on the series she had recorded. _

_Sara had just finished making herself a cup of green tea when there was a knock on her door. She quirked an eyebrow, she was not expecting anyone and the fact that it was 8:30 pm made visitors unlikely, as she made her to her front door. Sara peered through the peep hole but her visitor was standing to close. All she could see was a black clad, male chest. For a fleeting second she hoped it might be Grissom, but she immediately discarded the thought. Grissom would never show up on her door step, unless it was a life or death situation. _

Sara rubbed her forehead gently trying to remember the following details. She did not open the door immediately. No, her thoughts had turned to her handsome boss.

_Sara had hesitated for a moment letting her fantasy play out behind the lids of her closed eyes._

_She'd open the door and Grissom would be standing there with one hand braced against the doorpost. His black windbreaker would cover his wrinkled shirt and his salt and pepper curls would be in disarray. Sara would ask if everything was alright and Grissom would shake his head and say that Sara had robbed him of any chance of a peaceful nights' sleep. He'd step forward into the doorway forcing Sara to back up into her apartment as he shut her door behind him. Cerulean blue eyes would clash with chestnut brown ones as Grissom would continue to advance until Sara was trapped between his strong body and her kitchen counter. Grissom would place his palms down on the marble on either side of her body and lean in to whisper in her ear._

"_You have haunted my dreams and robbed me of sleep for too long, Sara," he'd whisper in a husky voice and Sara would shudder as his teeth lightly grazed the shell of her ear. _

_Grissom would then pull back and look into her eyes, his blue orbs would be dark with desire as they dropped to gaze at her lips. "I think it's time I return the favour," He said as he'd slowly lower his head and Sara's eyes would flutter close as she lifted her chin in anticipation for the feel of Grissom's lips finally brushing against hers..._

_Another round of knocking startled Sara from her fantasy. Her heart beating furiously and her mouth as dry as sand, Sara opened the door. She had been so lost in her fantasy; she forgot to leave the safety chain on. It was a mistake she would soon regret. _

Sara shuddered as the next wave of memories washed over her. She couldn't bear to analyze it too closely, but she remembered making it out to her car after the ordeal. She remembered sitting in her Prius in the dark with tears streaming down her stinging cheek.

Sara knew she needed to tell someone, she just didn't know who. She considered going to the station but could not bring herself to go through that kind of humiliation yet. Her mind had flashed to Grissom, but the thought was immediately been dismissed. Sara didn't want him seeing her like this; he'd never want her for sure then. He mind had then run through the list of obvious people; Nick, Warrick, Greg, Brass, Catherine. Each one was immediately dismissed. Sara remembered sobbing, feeling so utterly alone. She had no one she trusted enough to turn to.

Then a thought had occurred to Sara. She had reached into the pockets of her now blood covered jeans, and sobbed in relief when she found the business card with Griffin's home address scrawled on it. The beaten brunette had started her car and managed to drive to her destination.

Sara remembered being slightly sceptical when she entered the up market residential area and the town houses began to become more and more elite. When she pulled up to what was supposed to be Griffin's house, Sara felt sure she had the wrong address. How could an eighteen year old CSI 2 afford this kind of house?

The last thing Sara remembered was tiredly stumbling up the walkway to the front door and knocking as hard as she could. She recalled that there had been no answer the first time. She remembered banging on the door desperately a second time, begging a God she did not believe in that the young South African was home.

Sara had literally cried out in relief when Griffin had wrenched the door open. The rest was a blur. At least she knew where she was now. Sara slowly got up and winced at the pain in her abused muscles and walked towards the door. She opened the door and yellow light flooded the room causing Sara to squint and try to block out the light with her hand. She stepped out into the hall and saw she was in some kind of loft above the actual house. Sara walked to the railing and looked down to see a spacious living room. The far wall was composed of stack-a-doors that led out to a spacious garden and there was a modern, open plan kitchen adjacent to the living room. The right wall was lined with bookshelves and a glass desk. A silver computer sat on the desk, along with several books that were opened. Sitting at the desk with her back to Sara, was Griffin. The young girl sat with one leg propped up on the chair and her arm reaching around it to type on the keyboard of the computer. Sara turned and made her way down the spiral staircase to the lower floor.

As she reached the first floor Sara walked towards Griffin, feeling slight apprehensions. What would Griffin think of Sara showing up on her doorstep beaten and bruised and sobbing like a two year old?

Sara's feet glided silently over the wooden floor silently. In fact, there was no sound to be heard in the town house. Not even the sound of keys being tapped by Griffin.

Griffin's lithe fingers suddenly paused and Sara froze at the time. The young girl rose in one fluid motion and she turned to look at Sara. Griffin did not say a word as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Sara with her soul searching brown eyes. Sara swallowed as she took in Griffin's appearance. The girl was dressed in a black tank top and baggy black pants. Her elegant feet were bare and her dark hair was pulled back in a braid down her back. Sara noticed that Griffin's tanned arms were well toned. But what drew Sara's eye the most was the long, thick scar that ran along the side of Griffin's neck, right over her carotid artery. Sara quickly averted her eyes and looked back at Griffin; she was not sure what to say to her young colleague. She was not sure where to start.

Sara was saved from saying anything because at that moment her stomach gave a faint, almost inaudible growl. Sara suddenly realised how hungry she was. When was the last time she had eaten? 16 hours ago? 24?

Even though the growling of her stomach had been almost completely inaudible, Griffin quirked a delicate eyebrow and walked past Sara into the well equipped kitchen. As she passed the counter, Griffin pulled out a bar stool and said in a voice that left no room for argument, "Sit."

Sara did as she was told and watched as Griffin first opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. She filled a glass and placed it in front of Sara.

As Sara picked up the glass and eyed it for a moment before she asked, "You wouldn't happen to have something stronger?"

Griffin quirked an eyebrow and answered in a dry voice, "I do, but with that knock to your head, I don't think it would be wise to add alcohol to the mix."

Sara sheepishly took a sip of her orange juice. She then noticed just how thirsty she was as well and she drained the glass. Griffin in the meantime had opened the lid of a silver pot that was simmering on the stove. The smell that wafted from there caused Sara's stomach to once again voice its hunger. Griffin gave the pot a quick stir with a wooden spoon before she turned off the heat. She then reached into the oven and pulled out fresh bread. Griffin proceeded to cut two thick slices of the cheese bread and smear it liberally with butter. She then returned to the stove and ladled the thick stew into a bowl which she then placed before Sara along with the plate of bread. Sara looked down at the meal in front of her as Griffin topped up her glass with juice.

Sara hesitantly picked up a spoon and took a small bite. It turned out to be the most delicious vegetable stew Sara had ever had in her life, and after the first hesitant taste, Sara tucked in enthusiastically. Griffin remained standing behind the counter the whole while Sara ate, her brown eyes never looking away. About fifteen minutes later, Sara had consumed not only the stew but the two slices of bread and another glass of orange juice. Griffin proceeded to remove the empty utensils and placed them in the sink. When she returned she placed a half a glass of water in front of Sara, Griffin then reached into the cupboard and produced a bottle of Tylenol that she also placed on the counter.

"For your headache," Griffin said and Sara gratefully took some of the pain killers.

"Now," said Griffin after Sara had swallowed the pills, "Are you going to tell me who did this to you?"

**P.S. I hope to update again on Valentine's Day. Hopefully sooner. Please leave me a review. Make my week.**

**IronAngel 240.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey Guys,**

**I'm finally getting around to updating!**

**I know it's been forever.**

**This chapter is quite a heavy one (which could explain why it took me so long to write it). I know that none of us like thinking of Sara getting hurt, I personally hate reading stories like it, but I love seeing Sara's strength shine through in situations like this. I hate it when Sara gets hurt and I hate that I had to write it, but it was necessary for this particular story.**

**As always, I love reviews and such. Feel free to PM me as well.**

**Xxx**

**IronAngel 240.**

**I own nothing created by CBS and the respective owners of the CSI franchise. I own only my original story and Characters.**

**CSICSICSICSICSI**

Sara slowly set her glass down on the grey, marble counter top and muttered, "You should see the other guy."

Griffin narrowed her eyes and menacingly growled, "Trust me, if I ever lay eyes on the bastard I'll make sure he never touches anyone ever again."

Sara felt a shiver run down her spine at the violent edge that laced Griffin's generally velvet voice. Sara interlaced her fingers, bowed her head and was silent as she tried to figure out where to begin.

Realising she wasn't quite ready to talk about it, Sara grasped the hem of her maroon tank top, looked up at Griffin and asked, "You?"

Griffin's eyes never left Sara's as she shrugged and said, "Your other clothes were covered in blood. I couldn't leave you in them."

Sara nodded silently.

Griffin sighed and for the first time relaxed her rigid posture.

"Sara," Griffin said in a tired voice, "You need to tell me what happened. You should actually go to the hospital. I managed to bandage you up as much as possible, but you may need an MRI. You hit your head quite hard."

"I don't need to go to a hospital," Sara muttered.

Griffin sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Sara looked up at the girl and saw the frustration written on Griffin's face. Sara hunched her shoulders slightly, ashamed of her own behaviour.

_Griffin has taken you in, bandaged you up, given you food and clothes, the _least_ you can do is to tell her what happened,_ Sara thought. Whilst this was a good reason to come clean, Sara realised it wasn't the only one. She realised that despite the humiliating situation, she _wanted_ to tell Griffin what had happened. Sara wanted to take solace in the comfort of someone else helping shoulder her burden.

"I'd gotten home at around eight," said Sara and Griffin's downcast head snapped up. Sara took a deep breath and continued, "I was feeling rather tired and I was glad we had the next day off. I was making myself some tea when my door bell rang..."

_...Another round of knocking startled Sara from her fantasy. Her heart beating furiously and her mouth as dry as sand, Sara opened the door. She had been so lost in her fantasy; she forgot to leave the safety chain on. It was a mistake she would soon regret. _

_Much to Sara's disappointment, it was not Grissom...it was Hank. As soon as she saw the sandy haired EMT standing in her doorway, Sara had quickly tried to slam the door in his face. But Hank was too fast as he shoved his boot into the doorway, preventing the door from closing. Sara threw all her weight into pushing the door closed, but Hank braced his arm against the wood and forced his way inside. Sara quickly backed up into her apartment, reaching for her Glock at her hip, only to realise she had taken off in her bedroom. She silently cursed as her back hit the counter top in her small, open plan kitchen. Hank shut and locked the door behind him and menacingly advanced towards Sara. Sara felt her breath become laboured as she looked into his darkened eyes._

_When he was no more than ten inches away from her, Hank stopped and said in a low voice, "You think you're real smart, don't you, Sara? Hiding behind your little friends at the PD. Well, they aren't here now."_

_Sara swallowed as she flashed back to all the times her father had said that first line to her. These sarcastic words were generally followed by a vicious beating. Sara felt her spin straighten, her jaw and her eyes narrow. She wasn't a little girl any more. She could more than take care of herself._

"_What do you _want_, Hank?" Sara growled._

"_I want _you_, Sara," said Hank as he continued to make his way towards her. Ten inches shrunk down to six._

"_Stay away from me, Hank," Sara warned as she held up her hand. Hank paused and his eyes darkened further._

"_Why do you continue to fight me, Sara?" he asked. "You know you want me, as much as I want you."_

_Sara scoffed and said, "Hank, you think to highly of yourself. You were an average lover, at best."_

_Sara knew this probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, but this guy was seriously pissing her off. Hank's eyes hardened and he took another step forward. Four inches._

"_You know you love me, Sara," he said._

_Sara rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, "Please, Hank, don't be delusional. You were simply a distraction. I could never love someone as stupid as you."_

_Hank's eyes flashed and he reached out his hand to touch her face, "Stop trying to deny it, Sara."_

_Sara gasped in frustration and hit his hand away, "I DO NOT love you!"_

_Hank narrowed his eyes, drew back his hand and back handed Sara across the face. Sara yelped and fell to the ground from the force of the blow. Hank came and stood over her, his breathing laboured._

"_It's Grissom, isn't it?" he yelled from above her._

_Sara was still gasping in pain, her eyes filling with tears. _

Grissom?_ she thought, _What does he have to do with this?

"_What the hell are you talking about, Hank?" she rasped as she tried to lift herself off the floor._

"_Don't you think I saw how you looked at him?" Hank yelled. "How you'd whisper his name in your sleep?"_

_Sara had managed to lift herself on all fours when Hank stepped forward and kicked her in the stomach. Sara gasped and fell flat again._

"_How you'd gasp his name when we'd have sex?" Hank kicked her three times whilst he yelled this. Sara lay groaning on the ground as Hank loomed over her. _

_Sara tried to crawl away but Hank kicked her again knocking the air from her lungs._

"_Is that it, Bitch?" Hank yelled, "Am I not old enough for you?"_

_Sara rolled onto her back and gasped for air._

"_Even if I was fantasising about Grissom when we had sex," Sara gasped, "I still had to fake my orgasm."_

_Hank yelled and lifted his foot to stomp on her stomach, but Sara was quicker and kicked Hank in the groin._

_Hank yelped and fell to his knees. Sara jumped to her feet and tried to run to her bedroom to get her gun, but Hank reached around and grabbed her ankle. Sara cried out as she fell forward. Her vision blurred as her head hit the corner of the coffee table with a sickening crunch. Sara blinked, as black spots appeared before her eyes. Sara lifted her hand to her head and was alarmed when it came back wet with blood. Sara cried out in pain when Hank grabbed her by the hair. He then threw her across the room. Sara fell over a side table and knocked over a glass vase that shattered against her. Sara lay on her side amongst the shattered pieces of glass and weakly tried to brace herself on her bleeding palms. But the pain was threatening to make her black out._

"_I think you need to be taught a lesson," growled Hank as he stalked towards her his hands groping at his belt._

NO!_ Sara mentally. This would NOT happen to her! She would NOT become a victim!_

_She felt around, grasping for anything that could be used as a weapon. Her hands felt something square and heavy. Sara grasped her life line in both hands as Hank knelt down in front of her. With a defiant yell, Sara hefted her weapon and slammed into Hank's groin. When he doubled over again, Sara swung her weapon and slammed into his nose. She heard the satisfying crunch of cartilage breaking and saw blood spurt from Hank's broken nose as he fell back onto his back, grasping his face._

_Having used her last burst of energy, Sara collapsed onto her side amidst the broken glass, her vision fading. She saw Hank shakily getting to his feet and stumbling towards her front door still grasping his broken nose and groaning. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was the item she had used as a weapon. A soft smile flittered across her lips as she blacked out. Her weapon had been the entomology text book Grissom had given her for Christmas..._

**CSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Griffin had been frozen in place since Sara had said Hank had been standing outside her apartment.

_Damn, she's good at hiding her emotions,_ Sara thought as her eyes scanned the younger woman's blank face. Griffin took a deep breath and gripped the side of the marble counter top, her knuckles turning white.

"Hank did this to you?" Griffin asked in a deadly calm voice.

Sara nodded.

Griffin pushed away from the counter and quickly walked around it into the living room. Sara spun in her chair and watched as Griffin paused in the middle of the lounge. Griffin covered her mouth with her hand and gently rubbed it, her shoulders stiff. Griffin remained like this for five long minutes. In that time, Sara once again became aware of the throbbing in her head and the stinging pain in her arm. She left out a soft groan and Griffin spun around.

"What's wrong?" she asked sharply.

Sara shook her head and said, "Nothing, my head and arm just hurt."

Griffin clenched her jaw. She then walked over to the coat hanger by her front door, where she proceeded to slip on a pair of combat boots and a black leather jacket. Griffin then walked over to the closet on the right of the door, opened it and produced a black hoodie. She then walked back to Sara and handed the jacket to her.

"Put this on," Griffin ordered.

"Why?" Sara questioned, but she none the less slipped into the hoodie.

"We are going to the police station. You are going to give a statement," said Griffin in a controlled voice.

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but one look at Griffin and Sara knew that arguing was not an option. So she got up and followed Griffin to the door. As they reached it Griffin spun on her heel and embraced Sara.

Sara froze as she felt the young girl's arms around her neck. She was not used to physical contact. Non sexual that is. Sara had never experienced an innocent hug like this; an embrace that was simply meant for comfort and not as a prelude to sex.

After a few moments Sara slowly thawed and returned the hug. In that moment, something broke in Sara; something hard that had encased her soul, something that was built to protect Sara from emotional pain.

Warmth flowed through Sara and even the painful throbbing in her head and body faded away in light of the beautiful warmth.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, Sara," Griffin whispered in Sara's ear. Though the comment made no sense to Sara, the older CSI was touched by the sentiment. No one had ever wanted to put themselves in harm's way for her before. Sara simply tightened her grip on Griffin for a moment before releasing her. Griffin pulled back and looked into Sara's chestnut eyes with her soul searching brown ones.

"I won't let something like this happen to you again," swore Griffin.

And for the first time in her life, Sara put her trust in someone's promise...

**Review?**


	9. Chapter 9

**I know it's a short one, but I felt guilty after not updating in forever. I am already working on the next chapter and will hopefully update tomorrow. This is for my fellow GSR fans, nothing to hectic, just something sweet.**

**Please leave a review, I always read them like four or five times, they never cease to encourage me and inspire me.**

**Love you guys,**

**IronAngel 240.**

**CSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Never in her life had Sara felt like she belonged. She had always felt untethered, as if she were floating, with no true friends...and no family.

But the last three years working in Vegas with Grissom and his team, Sara had finally begun to feel anchored. She still felt like a third wheel most of the time, but her brotherly relationship with Nick, Warrick and Greg had stemmed those feelings to the point where Sara could convince herself it didn't matter. Vegas was the first place that had ever felt anything like home. The team had even started to feel like family. Even Catherine had become like a big sister to Sara. The two women could fight like cats and dogs, but what sisters didn't. Though Grissom didn't fit in as 'family' (he had always been more than a boss to her) he was the father figure of their little family. And Griffin was fitting in beautifully, growing closer and closer to the team with each passing day.

So walking into the PD bearing the shame of the abuse like a heavy cloak, Sara couldn't help but hang her head. What would the team think of her? She was fully aware that none of this was her fault. God, how many times had she given the same speech to victims? But Sara was realising this 'speech' was not in any way comforting.

Sara Sidle was a fighter. Sara Sidle was nothing like her mother. Sara Sidle was a cop...with a gun. She should have dropped that asshole the first time he had even thought about laying a hand on her. Yet she had just let it slide. Sara had not told anyone, she had thought the problem would just disappear.

_Just like your mother,_ said a snide, dark voice in Sara's mind, _I guess you are more like her than you thought._

Sara's shoulders hunched further on realisation of this fact.

_Always so quick to judge your mother, aren't you, Sara? But you are just like her._

"Hey," said a soft voice beside Sara, silencing the vindictive snarling in Sara's mind. Sara's head snapped up and met warm brown eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," said Griffin as she laid her hand on Sara's back. "They aren't going to judge you. They are going to help you... We all are."

As Sara stared into Griffin's eyes, she felt all her anxiety flow from her and her spine felt strengthened, like a steel rod was inserted. It was perfect timing, because just then Grissom appeared...

**CSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Grissom had almost missed the call. He had been sitting in his office at home, staring into space. A wall of white noise had descended over him and he was fighting off panic as he waited for his hearing to return. As the panic threatened to overwhelm him, two courses opened in front of his eyes. Strange, Grissom had always been under the impression that someone's life only flashed across their eyes just before they died.

_Maybe your possible future flashes before your eyes when you're in danger of losing it completely,_ thought the more analytical part of Grissom's mind.

_The first possibility he saw was a life without hearing. He saw himself leave CSI, leave his little family, leave Vegas. He saw a life of writing books, research, some restricted teaching and loneliness. There were highlights... Lindsey's graduation from high school and college, Warrick and Nicky's weddings; maybe even Catherine's as well. Grissom saw himself get an invite to Sara's wedding... Even in this semi delusional state, were he fully knew this was simply a hallucination, Grissom felt pain tear at his chest like a heart attack. Because that is exactly what it was; the thought of Sara with anyone else was an attack on Grissom's heart._

_But then there was another road that opened up before him. One where he got the corrective surgery for his ears, where he finally worked up the courage to ask Sara out; where he took a leap of faith. Grissom imagined the dimpled smile Sara would give him when he asked her to dinner. He knew her chestnut eyes would at first be clouded in suspicion; given the class A prick he had been to her since she had come to Vegas. But they would gradually begin to shine when Grissom began to prove himself faithful to their relationship._

_Grissom imagined what it would be like to have Sara in his life in this capacity. To be able to talk late into the night with her, laughing and enjoying their time together. To freely touch her whenever he wanted...wherever he wanted. To draw her into his arms and hold her against his chest. To place gentle kisses on her brow...her cheeks...her lips. To be able to hear her sigh his name as they made love._

_Then something new occurred to Grissom, something he hadn't considered before. He saw himself and Sara standing outside a beautiful house. Grissom was down on one knee and Sara stood in a white, silk robe beside him. In front of Grissom stood a young boy of about seven years old. The boy had Sara's chestnut eyes, but his jaw, nose and mouth were unmistakeably Grissom's. Sara told the boy she loved him as she shifted the tiny baby girl from her left hip to her right as she bent to kiss the boy on his forehead. The baby had Grissom's eyes and Sara's features. The boy laughed and turned back to Grissom. _

_Grissom felt himself draw the boy into a hug and whisper to him to have a good day at school. The boy pulled back and said with a big grin as he kissed Grissom on the cheek, "I will, Papa. I love you."_

_With that the boy took off running to the school bus. Grissom straightened and wrapped his arm around Sara's shoulders, the sun glittering off their gold wedding bands as they watched their son wave to them before getting on the bus..._

It was at this moment in his fantasy/hallucination that Grissom's hearing returned and he registered his phone ringing. When he had answered it, his heart had almost stopped beating.

"_Grissom,"_ Griffin had said in a serious voice, _"I need you to meet me down at PD. It's Sara."_

"Is she alright?" Grissom asked as he took of his glasses and sat up straighter, his heart beating furiously.

There was a pause on the other side of the line before Griffin sighed and said, _"You should get here as fast as you can... She's gonna need all of us."_


End file.
